


upshift and the wind in my face

by minimalloss



Category: Blaseball (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, You Are Boyfriend Monreal, a conversation between boyf and izzie, in second person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:00:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26501029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minimalloss/pseuds/minimalloss
Summary: after season four comes to a close, you find yourself thinking too much about the hardest season the mints have ever had to face. it's a good thing you have izzie.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	upshift and the wind in my face

**Author's Note:**

> set at the beginning of postseason four, when everything was much, much simpler, and we all still had hope for the world.
> 
> — title from press restart by walk the moon; song recommended for reading experience.

“You okay?” 

That’s a loaded question.

You’re not sure to tell Izzie when she flops down beside you, a muffin in each hand. She offers you one, saving the other for herself, and you take a moment to sniff it. _Blueberry_ , your favorite. She knows you too well.

“Depends on what you consider ‘okay,’” you say, through a mouth full of muffin. “It’s been a rough season.”

“You can say that again,” Izzie sighs, picking at her own muffin. Likely eyeing up her own baking, seeing where she could do better, she is. “Have you been taking care of yourself, Boyf? And no, that doesn’t include taking care of everyone else instead.”

“As much as I can, I think,” you say, and that’s the honest-to-god truth. You _are_ trying your hardest — you’d learned a long time ago that working through shit is better than bottling it all up — but it’s hard. This has been the hardest season anyone on the Mints has ever been through, not just you. You’ve been talking to Ren about it a lot, but she’s a lot busier now that she’s trying to get to know everyone on the Mills. It’s not her fault that she’s got a lot on her plate, it’s just that so do you.

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

You shrug, staring down at the grass. “I don’t know.” And the truth is that you don't know. Talking about it might help, sure, but there's this thing that happens every time you think about it.

You can feel the flashbacks coming on. You don’t have the willpower to fight them off. Not this time.

The incident is still fresh in your mind, even over a season later. You hadn’t been paying attention to the umps, too caught up in the game itself. You’d forgotten about the eclipse, and what that meant. For a second, out of the corner of your eyes, you thought you’d seen an umpire looking at you curiously. Staring you down. And suddenly there was a flash of light, iridescent and blinding, and your many eyes squinting in pain as it came close. 

And then there was Eddie. Wings spread wide, mouth open in a loud, piercing shriek that only an angel could make. And then you were shielded from the light, in the shadow of what was Eddie. And then your many eyes widened, as you realized what was about to happen. And you opened your mouth, trying to scream, but nothing came out. 

And that was it. Eddie was gone. 

You remember Leach’s horrified cries from the dugout, soul-wrenching. You felt the universe shift that day — yeah, mostly because Eddie and Leach’s marriage was one of the laws of said universe, and suddenly that had been severed, but you also felt _your_ universe shift, too. There was a certain amount of guilt that you immediately took on, more than you’d felt when Whit had died, because he hadn’t died for you. And you had to continue playing the game as if nothing had happened, because that’s just how blaseball _is_. 

And you stood there for the rest of the inning, with a smoking patch of grass in front of you, reminding you that you were supposed to go. Not Eddie.

“Hey. Stop that,” Izzie says, frowning, like she can read your mind. In all truth, you wouldn’t be surprised if she could; anyone powerful enough to destroy a god could probably do whatever the fuck they wanted. “I know that face. Stop blaming yourself.”

“Leach barely looks at me anymore,” you say, deflating. You feel defeated. You know that she blames you, at least a little bit, even though she doesn’t want to. And honestly, you can’t blame _her_ for feeling that way. “What am I supposed to do with that?”

“These things take time,” Izzie says, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. Her arms are strong, and sound. Immediately, you feel safer. More assured. She’s not the ‘mom friend’ for nothing. “She’s going through a lot right now. You remember how Whit was when his first wife died? Before he met Justice? He was a wreck for a long time. Eddie and Leach were married for a _long_ time. We don’t even know how long. She’ll get over herself and talk to you soon, but she’s working through the stages of grief right now.”

_I know,_ you think, _but I wish I could be there for her._ It’s in your nature to want to be there for your teammates. You care about them. You love them. They’re your family. “She’s been spending a lot of time with PDZ lately, hasn’t she?”

Izzie smiles, thinking about the two of them hanging out — shy, reserved PDZ, and hellfire Leach. That’s a duo nobody had ever predicted, and yet. “Yeah. He’s really coming out of his shell, isn’t he?”

It sparks a bit of pride in your chest. He’s finding his way, slowly but surely. Whit and Eddie passing had taken a toll on you all, PDZ included, but he’d ended up growing close to Stew and Lenny out of it. He’s got a whole new look, a new spring in his step. It makes you feel good. You’ve been rooting for him all this time. 

You look across the field, to where Winnie is working through her pitching drills with Dickie, who’s trying to keep up as best as he can as she slings another ball his way. The wind whips through her mane, and there’s a determination in her eyes you haven’t seen in a long time. Losing two friends has affected her, too; she’s become a real workhorse (no pun intended) this postseason. So much, in fact, they’d awarded her three and a half stars. _Three and a half._

Izzie follows your gaze. “Look at them go. Horse and Morse, huh?”

You look at Izzie. _Really_ look at her. You know she’d taken Whit’s death particularly hard. He’d helped her out a lot at her bakery, since he could always just use his head to slice up the bread loaves. They’d spent a lot of time together. And, of course, she’s always been protective over your little blaseball family. Whit being incinerated was the first time any of you had ever realized something could shatter that family. Sure, Patterson and Axel leaving had been hard, but at least they’re still _alive._ Sometimes you catch her calling Whit’s phone and waiting for it to go to voicemail when she’s alone in the dugout, just to hear his voice again.

Whit was the team captain — a title freshly awarded to him just a few days before he’d died. Though she won’t say it out loud, Izzie’s tried to step into his shoes since he’s been gone. She’s never claimed to want to be the captain, but being the self-proclaimed mom friend that she is, she’s trying her best to take care of you all. You appreciate her endlessly.

“I think next season is going to be ours,” she says, confidence in her voice. “We may have lost a lot, but we’re still _us._ No stupid umpire, no god, no _nothing_ can take that away from us.”

And she’s right, like she always is. But you need her to know that this isn’t her responsibility. She doesn’t have to carry all of you on her weary shoulders. She needs to be hanging out with her sister and reconnecting. Atlas is part of the team now, after all. You want her to know that she can put herself first.

“I think we need to all take a day off,” you say, and what you really mean is, 'I think _you_ need to take a day off.' You can only hope that comes across to her. “Do some team-building. Hang out. Chill for a little while before we have to deal with the next season.”

“You wanna take a little trip somewhere?” Izzie suggests. “We've got another week or two before next season starts. New York is nice this time of year, and I know you’ve been missing Ren.”

You smile. Even when you’re trying to get her to lighten up a little bit, Izzie is still looking out for you, like always. Maybe everything will be okay. Maybe. “Yeah, I think that would be nice.”

You mean it.


End file.
